Stool Pigeon (Hyatt)

[Crow]

Crow wasn’t a nice person. She was, after all, an information broker. She made a living making other people squirm. She hurt people constantly, and would kill without hesitation. She’d sold her most trusted contact—the closest thing she had to a friend—to the Brotherhood, so they could experiment on him. And now she was going to double-cross the Brotherhood and SHIELD to get him out again. She’d publicly humiliated Trask, broken a few of his toys, successfully blackmailed SHIELD into leaving her alone, and, as of recently, was able to add ‘deadbeat dad’ to her list of offenses. Not that anyone needed to know about that last bit. She still wasn’t sure what to do about it.

And here she was, freely giving information over to the NYPD, out of the goodness of her heart. She wasn’t even asking for anything in return. Well…not anything physical. The information happened to be about several bosses working under Kingpin that had been giving her some trouble lately. The pigs would love to be able to bring them in, and Crow would love to have them out of her way. Everyone won. She already knew exactly who would take the bosses’ places, and they were all more agreeable. With any luck, it would keep the NYPD from making her a priority, as well.

Crow lounged bonelessly on a bench just outside Central Park, overlooking Manhattan. Her head was tilted back over the top of the bench, her eyes closed. For all appearances, she was asleep. That was exactly how she wanted to be seen. It was ridiculous, of course—she slept in trees—but it served her purposes. She was currently cataloguing everything she could about the street; picking out individual footsteps and matching heights, weights, and current attitude to them, and then matching them up with scents that drifted by. Her telepathy was also in use, giving her several different views of the street before her. She knew everything that was going on in front of her, which was a small blessing. She was out in the open, as a human in the middle of the day. She was vulnerable. The wall of trees at her back was some comfort, but she’d still rather be doing this at night, in some secluded area where she undoubtedly had the upper hand. Somewhere where a uniform would mean jack shit if she decided to turn into a bear and maul someone. Here, she was just getting…twitchy.

Her hair had been brushed at one point, but the wind had managed to make it look as unkempt as always. It was why she didn’t usually bother. She was dressed simply in a tank top, pair of jeans, and combat boots. It showed off the long, spiderwebbing scar down her right arm, but she didn’t mind much. It was a highly identifying feature, but, more than any of her other scars, it had become a point of pride. Not many people fought lightning and won. At her feet sat a laptop case. Currently, it contained all of the information she planned on passing over to the pigs, but she was starting to consider leaving it hear and making a coffee run. Crow had her priorities, and playing nice with the police came far below her caffeine fix. Especially considering the detective she normally dealt with wasn’t anywhere on the street. There was a café about a block away she could hit. Maybe she’d be back here before Todd.

Wait, footsteps approaching. Large. Crow’s head snapped up instantly, giving away that she was awake, and she stared at the figure approaching. Hmm. That wasn’t Todd.

[hyattjenkins]

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"That's your assignment..."

"Bullshit, I just picked up the Time Square robbery..."

"Straight from the Captain...Judge..."
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Leaning against a light post, Hyatt kept switching through the folder of papers containing all the pertinent information on his knew assignment. The recording of that conversation with Detective Todd only adding fuel to his anger; Todd lit up red mentioning their boss, but it was more likely he was in with Internal Affairs who were looking to find ways to quell Hyatt's...trigger finger than a hazing ritual...

But he had an assignment and Hyatt wasn't about to blow it off because of a pissing match. It had been a while since he was in charge of a confidential informant back in Austin...and a bit of a hard-ass about getting into contact at all times with him or her. A climate change wasn't going to change that as he read over the file of one...Crow?

"Red-headed tooth-pick..."

Hyatt made his walk to the meetup, one bench in Central Park. Apparently Ms...Crow has been a productive, albeit reclusive informant, bouncing around the wrong circles. He eyes scanned the benches until that tooth-pick was identified...looking passed out in public.

"Don't be homeless, don't be homeless..."

Hyatt closed the folder and muttered as he approached her. Within a few moments she shot straight up, her radar apparently sounding off. She looked at Hyatt...confused...He responded with a grin.

"They're just Oxford boots, ma'am, nothing to worry over..."

He stopped in front of her, towering over the red head. He offered a hand-shake to her.

"Detective Todd has been reassigned, as have I...Hyatt Jenkins, NYPD..."

[Crow]

The man in front of her was tall and well-built; large enough that most people would probably find him intimidating. He wasn’t wearing a uniform, but that made it no less obvious that he was a cop. The hat was a nice touch. She looked him over critically as he talked, taking in his appearance and smell. The latter indicated that he was a little upset about something, but his manner didn’t let it show. Good boy. Ooh, and now he was making jokes and calling her ma’am. She liked him better than Todd already. Entertainingly enough, his voice also matched up with one she’d heard a few moments before he’d arrived. Don’t be homeless, indeed. She didn’t particularly mind; it let her blend into the background of the city more easily. Crow had gotten a whole bench to herself in one of the busiest parts of the city. She didn’t like to be bothered.

Crow nodded as he introduced himself, wondering exactly what this ‘reassignment’ had entailed, and which one of them was being punished by it. It was a pity; Todd had been well-trained. Didn’t ask questions about things he shouldn’t. As far as she could tell, the detective was telling the truth. That was something, at least.

“A pleasure,” she replied simply. There was no point in giving her name. Ignoring Jenkins’ offer of a handshake, she gestured to the free space on the bench beside her. It was up to him whether he took her suggestion or kept standing, but she damn well wasn’t going to move on his behalf. She was comfortable.

“So what did you manage to do to deserve this sort of punishment?” Crow asked, giving him a lazy smile that contained nothing resembling warmth or good-will. She was well aware that the police didn’t like her. It was to be expected. She wasn’t on their side, and there was little they could do to intimidate her. Speaking of which, she’d probably need to go over those rules with this Jenkins. This was, after all, on her terms, and she wasn’t anything resembling a normal informant. He was just the poor bastard that had to deal with her.

[hyattjenkins]

She was short and quick with a response, he guessed hanging around a cop in broad daylight wasn't helping her any. He ignored the pass on the hand-shake. "Common courtesy is a lost art," Hyatt thought, watching her off the seat next to her on the bench. He obliged, sitting down and taking his hat off, setting it to his side.

“So what did you manage to do to deserve this sort of punishment?”

"...I'm still workin' on that assignment, ma'am..."

He grinned again, leaning forward with his folder, his background on her. Detective Todd hadn't given him anything else (gleefully, as Hyatt remembered), other than a two-hour window to prepare for this, but maybe it wasn't such a bad thing. This situation shouldn't require shots fired...

"Now, from what I understand, Miss..."

He opened the folder to re-check the name.

"Miss Crow...you have given the Police Department some reliable information in the past and now I am the one to pass it along..."

State the obvious, blah blah blah...But if Todd wasn't going to share, he'd have to background check on the fly. From Austin to the Big Apple, nothing had changed...

"For the record, though, I shall be personally doing a thorough check on everything that comes out of your mouth. Locations, persons of interest, all that fun stuff..."

Then again, a three-question window of truth/fiction always helped...starting now as he leaned back on the bench...

"So, let's begin, Miss Crow...Who are you rattin' out today?"

[Crow]

Crow continued to study Jenkins as he sat down beside her. He was interesting. Most of the pigs she dealt with were either obviously disgusted by what she was, or nervous. He wasn’t either. Granted, Jenkins didn’t seem exactly thrilled to be here, but he was polite enough, and he seemed mostly relaxed. There was even smiling. Either he was made of significantly sterner stuff than most cops, or he hadn’t read her file at all. She was leaning towards the latter as being more likely, but there wasn’t any way to tell without directly intimidating him. It could wait.

Jenkins started in with a few formalities, and Crow gave him an annoyed glance. Yes, yes, she’d heard all this before. It was really getting old. Jenkins seemed just as bored with it as she was, and for a moment she wondered why he bothered. It was times like this that Crow was glad there wasn’t any sort of protocol that she was bound to follow. Still, despite her lack of interest in formalities, she watched Jenkins intently as he talked. Even if his words didn’t matter, she could use the chance to pick up on as much about him as possible. His tone of voice, his posture, the movement of his eyes. Knowing as much as possible about him now might save her ass later. He was behaving himself now, but they weren’t no the same side.

Finally, however, Jenkins finished and began asking about the real reason why they were here. Crow wasn’t particularly thrilled that he was leading the conversation, but she wasn’t about to stall this meeting any longer than necessary. The sooner they finished, the sooner she could do a very thorough investigation on this new contact.

“Thought you’d never ask,” she replied simply. Leaning down, she began to rummage through the bag she’d brought with her—slowly, making sure the pig could see what she was doing. No need to make him get nervous. There was nothing worse than getting shot over a simple misunderstanding. “Three upstanding members of society. As I understand, you’ve been trying to get information on them for a while now. All of them are linked to Kingpin, but that shouldn’t come as any surprise.” Crow glanced over to him pointedly, fully aware of how much of the police force he’d manipulated, too. The three files were right in front, where she’d left them. Each individual one was fairly thick. Crow pulled them out and handed them over.

“You should find everything you need in those. Names, addresses, day jobs. Schedules for the next month, and enough in the way of pictures and documents to put them away for a while.” She gave him a sidelong glance, just barely smiling. “But I expect you’ll double-check them, of course.”

[hyattjenkins]

The girl was intense or was trying to shoot death lasers through him. Suffice to say, Hyatt hoped this wasn't the first time she'd heard the rules of monitoring a snitch. He may go overboard, but he was thorough.

She also seemed eager to hand over her information, reaching into her bag. Hyatt leaned over as a precaution, no unwanted surprises. She pulled out three very big folders and handed them over.

“Three upstanding members of society. As I understand, you’ve been trying to get information on them for a while now. All of them are linked to Kingpin, but that shouldn’t come as any surprise.”

Kingpin...Kingpin...Hyatt conjured up an image of a fat-ass. "I need to brush up on my crime bosses," he thought, trying to locate a pictures of each man, one given to each. He found a goatee-wearing thirty-year old, a balding fifty-five bookie master, and a bouncer-sized forty-three man. The rest of the information was filled with what Miss Crow stated: daily schedules, incriminating photos, this tooth-pick was a private investigator underneath her attire. Also, she glowed blue responding to him, that was test one passed.

“But I expect you’ll double-check them, of course.”

"Yes, ma'am...I've seen too many of my brethren thrown to the wolves for not validating the information passed and acted on..."

No cases in New York, but in Austin those occurrences led to demotions all the way to crossing guards and school security gigs. Hyatt would not let that happen to himself. He nodded with the plethora of information in front of him; some task-forces took months to dig this amount up. With that now no being a concern,, it was time to cue background check on the informant.

"I find it odd that you are receiving no compensation for your...tireless efforts here..."

He turned to face the woman, setting the folders under his hat.

"How does selling these assholes out help your cause, Miss Crow?"

[Crow]

Surprisingly enough, Jenkins did confirm that he’d double-check her information. It would take him a while, considering the amount Crow had given him. Granted, it hadn’t taken her that long to compile, but she cheated. Presumably, most of her methods weren’t things he could mimic. Hmm, so he was very thorough and at least somewhat experienced. Crow added that to her mental profile of him. It made him a little more of a threat, but also more useful. Only time would tell which one outweighed the other.

As Hyatt looked over the files, an unnervingly familiar sound of metal-on-metal caught the attention of Crow’s enhanced hearing. Her gaze snapped up to scan the street. Shit, had someone found her already? She remained tensed, ready to disappear, until she located the source of the noise. Someone locking a bicycle. That was…better than she’d expected. Crow forced herself to relax back in her seat, switching her focus back to the detective. Being out in the open like this was making her even more jumpy than usual.

“I find it odd that you don’t think I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart,” she retaliated dryly. He was getting dangerously close to asking too many questions, but she’d give him this one. Having a motivation here and now meant he’d be less likely to ask in the future. Besides, if she somehow did convince him that she was doing this for honor and justice and all that, then the police would never stop trying to appeal to her better nature. She really didn’t need that. “They’re mutual enemies. If you take care of them, then I don’t need to. “

Sometimes, just for shits and giggles, Crow decided to shake things up and actually follow the law. Well, except for the part about how she’d obtained most of that information. She’d been blackmailing them all for a while now, mostly with the information in the folders she’d just handed over. They’d decided to retaliate, so she was releasing it. They honestly should have seen this coming. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and she doubted it would be the last. Pragmatically, Crow decided to leave out the part where she’d thoroughly vetted the men’s replacements. Let him think that taking a few criminals off the streets would help anything. It was cute.

That was probably about enough information about her line of work, Crow decided. Time to reverse their positions. Any information she got about him now would make her background check easier. Head tilted, she regarded him curiously. “Where’s that accent from, Texas? What prompted the change of scenery?”

[hyattjenkins]

Between the lasers and the seriousness, Hyatt caught her snapping act out of the corner of his eye...that and the changed posture.

"Ever so cautious," he thought.

“I find it odd that you don’t think I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart. They’re mutual enemies. If you take care of them, then I don’t need to.”

"That almost sounds like a threat, Miss Crow..."

Her aura was a pattern he was all too familiar with informants: Blue with various cracks of red all around her center. Just enough truth, but not the whole truth. Probably was bringing enough heat on herself just sitting with him, which he recognized. This was going to be a good research project, whenever he had time for it.

"One I'm going to choose to ignore..."

“Where’s that accent from, Texas? What prompted the change of scenery?”

"Austin, born and raised...family affairs..."

He grinned again. If she could dig up all this on her enemies, she'd probably be beating around the bush about him. Then again, if she was going to give him breadcrumbs, would she blame him for doing the same? But he had one round left in the chamber, which harked back to her change in posture.

"I know of no informant of any kind, from past experience, that just wanted to put these heads on a platter for free...even 'Humble Joe' wanted a $10 strip club credit, so..."

Hyatt put on his hat and grabbed all the folders before getting up and standing yet again over Miss Crow.

"Look, 'lot of folks I've handled hold grudges, want their competition gone, and I understand that...If y'all got enemies, I can monitor them as well...If only y'all tell us good folk about 'em, it's kinda part of the assignment thing..."

[Crow]

Crow was surprised by Hyatt’s warning. A threat? No, she wasn’t in the habit of making threats. It was an…observation. And the truth. If the police didn’t take care of them, then she would. This is why she didn’t use honesty much. No one liked the answers. Crow tensed, watching Jenkins carefully. She really didn’t want this to get messy, but if he started a fight, she’d finish it. A second later he said he’d ignore it, thankfully, and slowly she began to relax again. Maybe she’d insist on talking to Todd again, next time. Todd was helpfully mediocre at his job. Never asked about her motivations. Thankfully, Hyatt was willing to switch the subject, and Crow raised an eyebrow. Must have been one hell of a family issue, to prompt a cross-country move. She’d find it out soon enough, once he wasn’t looking.

His offer prompted a long, low laugh, startling Crow. When was the list time she’d done that? A…while ago, at any rate. She didn’t laugh much. How could she help it, though? He didn’t realize how funny he was. “Damn. You didn’t read any of that file, did you?” she asked, chuckling again.

“I’ve been in this business long enough to have made more money than I know what to do with. As I understand, the NYPD is…less well off,” she gave him a humorous glance, aware of how well the phrase “budget cuts” could provoke terror. Sometimes there were benefits to working on commission. As the mood faded, she stood up, pushing her well into his bubble of personal space. Damn, he was tall. There weren’t many people who could look down on her that easily. Her eyes locked her eyes onto Hyatt’s, intensity returning. She didn’t tell the whole truth often. He better damn well listen.

“”It also means the enemies I’ve made—real ones, not those three idiots—are way out of your jurisdiction. The only reason I’ve lived this long is because I’m very, very careful. Don’t even think of saying ‘witness protection’. They’re the type of enemies that would just consider it a mild inconvenience. The real reason I’m doing this is to stay on your good side. The fewer fronts I need to watch my back from, the better.”

Moment over, she broke eye contact and turned abruptly down the street. “There’s a nice café about a block from here. I might be able to answer some questions that those files don’t cover. I’ll buy you a doughnut,” she offered. The old jokes were still the best.

[hyattjenkins]

With all this baggage Ms. Crow seemed to have on her "enemies", Hyatt got the impression that she would handle things herself. Seemed reasonable enough, but, at least in Hyatt's best judgement, this wasn't a discussion. He had seen far too many stories of informants getting knee deep in some shit they thought they could handle, refused helped for their handlers...and now are littering six feet under across Texas. His informant, his priority, whether she agreed to it or not...

“There’s a nice café about a block from here. I might be able to answer some questions that those files don’t cover. I’ll buy you a doughnut...”

If he wasn't on the clock, Hyatt would have asked for Jimmy Beam.

"Lead the way, ma'am..."

Ms. Crow started walking down and, after making a quick perimeter scan of the area, Hyatt followed along behind her. The first thing he wanted get to was the why. So, Hyatt randomly picked a photo from the folder to start and handed it to her.

"Much appreciated if ya started on this baldy...Yeah, dominoes fall down if ya sell those assholes out, but there's gotta be a bookie is on your bad side..."

[Crow]

Although Jenkins didn’t seem to believe Crow’s assertions, she wasn’t about to continue explaining her situation to him. He didn’t need more details, and, even if she did trust him, there wasn’t anything he could do to help. There was nearly always someone that wanted her dead, but she continued to survive. It was all she really had left. Eventually, someone would be smarter, or sneakier, or faster than she was, and she’d be dead. It was more likely, however, that her own powers would kill her first; they’d been trying since they’d first developed. Until then? She survived.

Crow didn’t slow down or glance back to Jenkins as he told her to lead the way. She would be going to the café even if he hadn’t followed her. She wanted coffee. Crow glanced over the street quickly, looking for anything out of place, and then switched her attention to the skyline. Nothing immediately strange on either count. Reaching out mentally, she found a few pigeons and double-checked their perception of the area. Still nothing. Regardless of her scan, Crow continued to keep alert as she strode down the sidewalk. Being sloppy meant death.

Pausing her surveillance briefly to accept the picture from Jenkins, she glanced at it out of habit. She then frowned at the detective as he continued talking. Of course there was a reason he was on her bad side. She damn well wasn’t going to tell him. It wasn’t part of the deal, and she’d passed her quota on personal questions several minutes ago. Instead, she began to tell Jenkins about the bookie. “Clark Warrick. Out of the three, he’s the closest to being a decent human being. Has a wife and two kids, both boys. Loves all three very much. Unfortunately, he also loves rigging bets, mostly football. Arranges to make sure key players are healthy enough to be on the field, but barely functioning. Mostly through the wonders of chemistry. Very clever man, good at covering his tracks.”